Broken Promises
by Lucky Charmz
Summary: Spring, summer, autumn, winter.  Rory and Tristin rediscover themselves and each other throughout the course of a year.  AU Trory.
1. Spring

**Title**: Broken Promises

**Summary**: Spring, summer, autumn, winter. Rory and Tristin rediscover themselves and each other throughout the course of a year. AU Trory.

**Background**: Instead of Jess straightening Rory out, Tristin did it. He came to her grandmother's house and took her to dinner and told her what she needed to do. Instead of getting back together with Logan, they broke up that night and she and Tristin started dating. After her graduation from Yale, they married. This is set a year after they get married. Rory leaves Tristin for Logan. This story will be only four chapters long – maybe five if I decide to write an epilogue.

**Rating**: M – Be warned.

**A/N**: Yes… I'm horrible. However, I plan on re-posting/revising Finding Grace and Light Years Away when I get inspired for them.

**Thank you**: My lovely beta, Emily :)

--

**Spring**: _The Bridge We've Burned_

It is April, and the rain has, for once, subsided. Spring in Connecticut. The time of year he normally would have been thankful for. However, as he nears his house, he gets a feeling. A bad feeling. And when he steps inside of his house, his large and daunting house that looks more like a dungeon, the feelings kick into overdrive.

She is standing in the foyer when he gets home. Dressed in jeans and one of her Yale t-shirts. She looks gorgeous. He moves to touch her when he enters the house, but she moves away. He stares at her quizzically, and it is then that he notices the bags.

"What are you doing?" he asks. But he knows what she is doing. Their marriage has been less-than-perfect. He has been thrust into a role he never wanted. He is a lawyer at his father's firm. Their life has become a string of late nights in the office and society galas that he knows she has never wanted. Their simple life has been turned upside down and he has known for quite some time that she is not happy.

She shrugs her shoulders and looks at the floor. He has always loved that she has never lost her look of innocence. No matter what has happened, she has always been the innocent, naïve sixteen year old girl he met at Chilton. She has always been an untainted angel with a shiny halo and wings that help her fly.

It is now, though, as she is preparing her getaway, that he realizes just how tainted she is. He realizes now that her wings have been clipped. Her spirit has been broken. And her halo, the one he has always seen, has been taken. The angel has died. And in its wake is a woman who has been turned into her worst nightmare: a trophy wife who had, at one point, had goals that had been within reach.

He curses himself for hurting her. He had been the one to get her back to school. To get her back to chasing her dreams. And in one short year, he had taken her dreams from her. He had taken everything she had worked for and set fire to it. Leaving her to watch everything go up in flames.

"I'm leaving," she states simply. She has not met his eyes. She is leaving something out, and he knows it. He knows, though, that he has lost every privilege to ask her what detail she is omitting. He stares at her, trying to break through the wall that she has put up. This wall has been there for quite some time, he realizes. And he has allowed this barrier, along with a thousand more, to separate them.

The shrill sound of ringing breaks the silence between them, and he sees her eyes light up as she looks at the ID on her cell phone. She turns away, but he knows she is smiling. The tone in her voice gives it away. Whoever has called is the one who makes her happy. He wonders who it is that has taken his spot. The one he had once coveted, but now was willingly giving up.

In a way, though, he still covets that spot. He longs to be the one to make her melt into the telephone with just one word. To make her blush with a lewd comment (which he used to do daily, but those have become nonexistent). He wants to be the one to hold her hand and make it alright. But he has done the opposite. He has pushed her away and made everything ten times worse.

"Logan," she scolds in a voice just barely above a whisper. And his heart drops at the sound of that name. The guy who hurt her in the first place. The prick who let her drop out of Yale.

_But __**you**__ are much worse_, a voice reminds him. _**You**__ are the asshole who made her run back to him_. And he knows this voice, his conscience, is correct. He has hurt her and ruined her. And when she turns back around, blushing from what he assumes was a profane comment, he knows he has lost her.

"I have to go," she tells him. He only nods, swallowing a lump that has risen in his throat. She picks up her bags, and then stands back and stares at him. As if expecting him to tell her to stay. She's daring him to fight for her. But he won't do that. He realizes that he has lost this privilege, along with a million – nay, a _hundred_ million – more. She has not been his for quite some time. And though he is not okay with it – he will _never_ be okay with it – he accepts the fact that it has happened. He has lost Rory Gilmore.

She presses her lips to his cheek, and he swears they are moist from a nonexistent tear that she has shed. He forces himself to look at her, and he sees something in her eyes that he has not seen a long time: happiness. He smiles weakly at her and gestures to the door. "Take care of yourself." He pauses, unsure if he should add the next part, but he lets his old self get the best of him. "Mary."

She nods, and opens the door. He looks outside and watches her walk over to a Mercedes. And the blonde prick has the balls to have the window down as she walks over to him. He will not say anything though. Because he is letting her go. Because he loves her. And he will not hold her back.

The car pulls out of the long driveway and he watches it disappear. Hours later, when he is looking at their wedding picture, he hears thunder. And it begins to rain.

It is spring. And he is alone.

--

She has always been the one to run. She ran from Dean when he kissed her. She ran from Dean when he told her he loved her. She ran from Dean when Jess arrived in town and made her mind weak and her body ache for something more. She ended up running from Dean after she slept with him and ruined his marriage. She allowed Logan to let her run.

She ran from Jess when she kissed him at Sookie's wedding. She metaphorically ran from Jess when she returned from Washington and refused to fight for him. Because he'd found himself a blonde bimbo and she didn't have the guts to beat her trashy ass and take him away. She ran from Jess when he asked her to run away with him.

There was only one boy that she hadn't run from. And in the end, she ended up running from him and back to Logan. Because Logan had offered her a way out. And she needed a way out. An escape from the DAR and the country club and the prying eyes of her grandmother and mother-in-law.

Her mother had stopped speaking to her. Lorelai had never liked Logan, and had always loved the idea of Tristin. He was, after all, the one who got her back to Yale. And Logan had been the one to keep her from it. Now, though, it was Tristin holding her back. And Logan was offering her a way to reach her dreams. But Lorelai would have none of it. And so Rory had cut ties with her mother.

She is afraid to tell him what she is doing. But she knows that she has no choice. After all, he did get her to finish school. And he had pushed her to graduate with honors. The least she can do is tell him good-bye. She begins to wring her hands together when she sees his car in the driveway. The April sun shines through the clouds and illuminates him. He looks like a god. An Adonis.

He opens the door and her breath catches. She is nervous to tell him she is leaving. He makes a move to kiss her, but she moves away. In truth, what she wants to do is kiss him madly and let him take her upstairs and fuck each other senseless. But she won't do that right now. She needs to get out. She needs to get away from this stuffy house. This gigantic house that makes her feel like a prison inmate and not a wife.

"What are you doing?" Her heart melts at his question. She shrugs. It is the best response she can come up with. She knows his question is rhetorical. He knows very damn well what she is doing. He has known her long enough to know that she is not happy. That he has broken her. She has _allowed _him to break her. But she is broken nonetheless.

She does not want to speak to him. She fears her voice will betray her. She does not want to leave him. She wants to stay here. She wants to feel his hands on her, tracing every inch of her body. But they have put up so many walls between each other. She cannot help herself. She cannot stop herself from answering it. He deserves an answer. At least, that is what she tells herself when she replies with, "I'm leaving."

They are silent. She wants to know what he is thinking. He is driving her crazy with his staring. She feels his eyes. They are burning her. For a split second, she wants to call it all off. She wants to call Logan and tell him that she can't leave. Because she is in love with Tristin and they can work it out. They can have a happily ever after. They can make it work. She knows they can. She knows—

Her cell phone rings, and she smiles when she sees it is Logan calling. He has stopped her from staying here with Tristin. He has stopped her from being some fucked up delusional pill-addicted housewife. She opens the phone and melts when she hears him say her name… _Ace_.

He tells her he is on his way. That he is getting ready to be in her driveway. She cannot shake the feeling of Tristin's eyes on her. She feels guilty for being happy. She is upset that Tristin is not the one making her smile. That Tristin isn't talking dirty to her about the activities that will ensue when they enter his apartment. Tristin's voice isn't the husky one on the other end of the line, telling her he's going to fuck her until she can't spell her name right. She blushes and scolds him in a voice she has not used in so long… "Logan." Her voice is just above a whisper, and there is a wetness pooling between her legs.

She still feels Tristin's eyes on her. Logan tells her he is in the driveway waiting. She closes her phone and turns to see Tristin staring at the floor. She buries the feeling of guilt. And she forces herself to speak to him. "I have to go." She picks up her bags and something inside of her tells her to wait just a second. To let him beg her to stay. She longs for him to fight for her again. To call Logan a blonde prick and beg and plead with her to make it work. She tells herself that if he asks her to stay, she will. But she knows he won't do that. He won't tell her to stay. He has stopped fighting for her.

She feels a tear slip down her cheek. She lets it dissolve and presses her lips to his cheek, shocked that even when she is this upset with him, she still feels sparks. Even with a simple gesture, he still drives her crazy. She feels something else, though: closure. And for the first time, she is relieved. She is happy. Happiness, a long dormant emotion in her life, has made a comeback.

He looks up at her, and she knows he has seen her happiness. His smile is so weak, but she loves him just the same for forcing it. For letting her take some time away from this. She wonders, briefly, if she'll be back. But that thought is pushed away when he speaks.

"Take care of yourself." He has broken the silence with words she remembers from one night at one play. When she was with Dean. A boy she had run away from. A boy she had not wanted to kiss that night, but had forced herself to do because he was the _safe_ one. She hopes that he does not end this good-bye the same way as that one, though.

"Mary," he adds. He has crushed that hope. And it is nothing new for her. She opens the door and makes her way outside. Logan is smiling at her and she smiles back. She hopes this smile does not look forced. She does not want to leave Tristin. But she cannot stay here. She knows they will not make this work. At least, that is what she convinces herself of as she gets in the car.

Logan drives off. She still feels Tristin's eyes on the car. Even though they are miles from that house now.

It is later in the afternoon, when Logan is unzipping her jeans and sliding his finger into her, that she looks outside and sees that it is raining.

It is spring. And she tells herself that she is happy with this decision.


	2. Summer

Wow. Thank you so much for the reviews. Here's chapter two!

See first chapter for all necessary information.

**Summer**: _When Fighting is All You Can Do_

She has gone over this decision for three months. Agonizing over whether or not it is right for her to do this. She knows the answer is not 'yes.' It's not right for her to draw up these papers. It is not right for her to go through _his_ law offices to draw up these papers. These papers that will end everything she has ever wanted.

But she has. She has called his best friend, once one of her best friends, and she has pleaded with him to keep it quiet. Knowing full well that the second she hangs up he will be standing in her husband's office, asking what the hell happened. He had asked her the same thing. She avoided the question though, only asking him to draw up the papers and mail them to her when they are ready.

She sighs as she opens the mail box and sees the envelope from "DuGrey, McCrae and Langford, Attorneys at Law." She feels nervous as she opens the envelope, and then relieved when she sees it is not a letter from him, but the papers she requested.

Her fears are not unfounded; he sent her a letter everyday for the last three months. Filling her in on his life, telling her he loves her. The usual things she expects to hear. She has not responded, though.

Instead she has filled her days with work at the Hartford Gazette, one of Huntzberger Media's newest investments. She is the editor, a job Logan had arranged for her when she left with him. A job she didn't have to work for, but a job nonetheless.

Her dream is coming true, though. No matter how she got there. One of the bigwigs at CNN caught one of her by-lines and had loved it. She had an interview there in three days.

She takes a sip of her lemonade and wipes her brow. The July sun is beating down on her. It is unbearable hot outside, and she has a feeling that it won't be getting any cooler.

She sits at the patio table in front of the pool, going over the papers. She reads the words 'writ of divorcement' and stops reading long enough to let a tear escape. She wills herself to move forward over the words 'irreconcilable differences' and scoffs. There are no irreconcilable differences, just broken promises. But those words will never be uttered from her lips. They will never be cited on these papers.

She goes to the page that matters. The one with four lines. Two open for her signature and a date. The other two open for his signature and a date. His lines are blank, and for a moment she is surprised. She half-expected Colin to allow him to sign first. But she knows Colin. He always keeps his promises. And the one to keep quiet, the one she half-expected him to break, he has kept. She is thankful that someone has kept a promise to her.

She hears Logan calling her name and smiles at the sound of his voice. It is not Tristin's voice calling her name, but Logan's voice is filled with more love than Tristin's had been for the last year. She smiles at him in greeting when he comes out and sits across from her.

He sees the papers and eyes her cautiously. He sees the address label on the envelope and nods in understanding. Colin McCrae had once been his best friend. But that had stopped the moment he went to work with Tristin DuGrey. In a way, this is his revenge just as much as it is hers.

"Are you okay?" His simple question startles her. Their silence had become companionable. She looks up to meet his gaze. His chocolate brown eyes are burning holes through her, and for a split second she wishes they were the dark blue to which she had become accustomed. But she knows that she had closed that door and burned that bridge. She has finished that chapter of her life.

She nods and walks over to him, pressing her lips to his fiercely and allowing him to take control. He delves his tongue into her mouth. Deeper, deeper, deeper each time. She meets his tongue with hers and loses herself in him. He is all that matters right now. Not Tristin, not Colin. Just Logan. His hands cup her face and she grasps at his waist, gently removing his blazer.

He picks her up and carries her into the house. They remove their clothes quickly, both too frustrated with the broken promises and weight of the situation to engage in any type of foreplay. He thrusts into her quickly, and they create their own rhythm. They ride out the waves of pleasure together, grasping tightly to each other. She expects bruises to appear within the next few hours.

He falls asleep holding tightly to her. And she forces herself to close her eyes, letting sleep take her as well. She wakes before him, though, and walks back outside into the hot July night. She sees the papers on the table, and grabs a pen before heading outside.

She sits and stares at the papers. And she hesitates before uncapping the pen. She is unsure if she wants this. Unsure if she really wants it to be over. She glances at a newspaper, though, and sees a picture that erases any and all doubts of her decision.

He is with a petite blonde whom she had wrongly assumed was her friend. A girl who had been her confidante through everything: Chilton, Yale, dropping out of Yale, coming back to Yale. He is smiling at the girl, and she clenches her fist at the picture. He never smiled like that with her.

She decides right then and there that Paris Geller is no longer her friend. And that Tristin is no longer the man she fell in love with.

With a new rage, a new fury, she presses the pen to the paper. Determined to erase him – and, now, _her_ – from her life for good. She feels even more relief as she writes in the date, a smile planted firmly on her face.

It is summer. And she is getting her revenge.

--

He sighs exasperatedly and takes a sip of his coffee. Paris is sitting across from him at the dinner table. She is talking about how her life has gone – a husband, twins and a new job at Hartford Memorial as the head of their cardiology department. And, of course, she is talking about how he needs to clear up their relationship. But she knows, too, that he is going to let it get out for a little bit. She knows he wants to get back at Rory for leaving him.

She smiles at him sympathetically and picks up her cell phone to call Doyle. He hears her speak softly to Doyle and their conversation makes him envious. He used to speak with Rory like that – in hushed tones that only they could hear. With an air of lust behind each and every word. But he has lost her. And he is finally getting over the initial heart ache. He is allowing the need for revenge to kick in. He hopes she has seen the picture in the Washington Post.

Paris bids him good night. She leaves and he falls asleep. Allowing the dreams of he and Rory to flood his slumber. He dreams of their wedding. He dreams of their first few months together. And the last thing he dreams is her good-bye. He wakes up the next morning still exhausted. Thankful that the weekend has come. He will relax this weekend, and he will not dwell on what his life has become.

He opens the mailbox and a wave of curiosity rushes over him when he sees an envelope from her. He wonders if she has written him back. Wonders if she is wanting to come home. If she is apologizing for the last three months. Telling him she is coming home.

But this envelope is a large manila one. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, taking out the envelope and ignoring the rest of the mail. He walks inside clutching it in his fists. Realization sinking in as he gets a glass of water and walks outside.

He opens it carefully, and he confused but not surprised when he sees what she has sent him. He sees the familiar watermark of his firm's name and realizes that these papers are the reason for his co-worker's strange attitude of late. He makes a mental note to probe his friend for answers on Monday morning. Right now, though, he decides to look at these papers. This confirmation that his life is, indeed, over.

She wants him out of her life. He sees it plain and clear for the first time in three months. Any and all hopes of reconciliation have been dashed with words like 'writ of divorcement' and 'irreconcilable differences.' He has half a notion to call and ask her what the fuck irreconcilable differences are.

But he knows. He knows he has broken promises to her. He has crushed her dreams. And he knows that she probably analyzed the parallels between 'irreconcilable differences' and 'broken promises' as she looked over the papers.

Something falls out of the envelope and he picks up a newspaper clipping. He sees the picture of himself with Paris, and inwardly kicks himself in the head for doing that. For letting things get out of hand like this. He had only wanted to make her see what she was missing. He hadn't meant to drive her out of his life completely.

Alas, the note that accompanies the clipping shows him just what he has done. The four words scream at him. He almost sees her writing them. For a split second he even hears her saying them. And he sighs as he reads the words.

_We're done. For good._

He knows, though, that they aren't. He finally gets his kick in the ass. The reason to chase after her and fight for her. It's a foreign feeling. One he has not felt since he guided her back to Yale. But he welcomes it. A smile forms on his lips, and he puts the papers in his desk drawer. He marches up the stairs with a newfound feeling of determination.

It is summer. And he is going to fight like hell for her.


	3. Autumn

**See first chapter for all necessary information. The song "All I Need" is by Mat Kearney. I recommend listening to it while you read this, but if you don't it's not really going to confuse you. Thanks for the reviews! They really, truly mean a lot. **

--

**Autumn**: _Because Reality Awaits Us Outside These Doors_

"So, when do you plan on divorcing my girlfriend?"

His jaw clenches at the question. He wants to punch the blonde prick for asking it. And he wants to grab Rory and kiss her senseless. Correction: he wants to grab Rory and kiss her and fuck her senseless in front of the blonde prick. He chooses, instead to smirk and shrug. He does not want to ruin this night for her. Her birthday. Her twenty-fifth birthday to be exact.

Rory does not meet his eyes. He knows it is because she feels guilty. Guilty for sending him the papers. Guilty for being with Logan. Guilty for not answering every time he has called her. He knows the running total for his calls is reaching ninety. But he will not stop calling. He refuses to give up on her that easily.

It has been three months since she sent him the papers. Three months since he finally decided to fight for her. And fighting he has done. He has called her everyday at exactly three in the afternoon, when he knows the blonde prick is not there. She does not answer. He is not unhappy about that, though. Because every Wednesday she sends him an e-mail. She asks how he is doing, how Paris is doing, how work is going. The questions are general. The words she writes him are simple. But those e-mails mean the world to him.

"Oh, Rory, Tristin!" Emily's greeting leaves him satisfied. She does not even address Logan. She simply smiles at him, before directing her attention to the pair. "You _must_ come and cut your cake!" Before any of them have a chance to protest or agree, she is guiding them to the center of the room. He takes this opportunity to really study her. He has not seen her since she left him alone in their house. Tonight, though, he is being given an opportunity to study his wife for the first time in ages.

Her hair is longer now. She looks older. She looks happier. He knows that he is not the reason for her happiness. She smiles at him and he smiles in return. Emily forces their hands together, and he intertwines his fingers with hers. It is then he notices the biggest difference of all as his thumb grazes over her all-important left ring finger. Her wedding rings are no longer there.

He looks down at her, and he knows that she has realized what he's discovered. She opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by singing. She offers him a smile, but he averts his gaze. He is unsure if it is proper to be upset with her. He did, after all, let her leave. He let the papers print that he was dating Paris (even though he _did_ clear that up with her when he called her the first time). He did not answer the blonde prick's question. And he, too, no longer wore his wedding ring. Not on his finger, at least. His wedding ring was on a chain that he wore around his neck everyday. Because a part of him still believed they would make it work. But with this discovery, that she no longer wears her rings, his doubts have come back in full force.

She smiles at everyone and thanks them, and takes the knife her grandmother has offered her. She cuts a slice of cake and hands it to her grandmother. Her grandmother wheels the cake off to the kitchen to be cut by the kitchen staff. He shakes his head. He never really understood the ceremonial cake cutting. But he has always played along nonetheless. And though his doubts were back, he was reveling in the fact that he was standing next to her and holding her hand. It is a dream come true for him.

Logan goes and stands behind her, not-so-subtly forcing their hands apart as he laces his hands through hers, resting them at her waist. Tristin forces back his remark. He wants to keep a promise to her. And when she had sent him the last e-mail, asking him to be at her birthday party, she had also requested that he not say anything unkind to Logan. He had written her back quickly, promising her he would not say anything. And so far, two hours into it, he has managed to keep his promise.

He catches sight of Lorelai. She smiles at him as she joins Rory and Logan. Rory had informed him in her first e-mail to him that they had patched things together. That Lorelai had softened to the idea of Logan. Especially after Rory had told Lorelai what precisely had happened between her and Tristin.

"I guess this is also a congratulations party, huh, Ace?" He sees Rory visibly stiffen at Logan's words. He narrows his eyes at her curiously. Wanting to know precisely what Logan means. He sees Lorelai's raised eyebrows and takes comfort in the fact that he is not the only one perplexed by Logan's remark. Lorelai nudges Rory with her elbow and he sees Rory force a smile as she looks to both him and Lorelai.

"CNN hired me," she explains. Tristin can't help himself. He throws his arms around Rory, ignoring the glare he receives from Logan, who has been pushed out of the way. He notices that Rory does not hesitate to hug him back. And he wonders if this is a good thing. He kisses her cheek and tells her congratulations. Lorelai congratulates her by grabbing her and hugging her tightly before making her jump up and down with her. He smiles at the scene, remembering when he had first witnessed this.

The night Rory decided to go back to Yale. He remembers driving her to see her mother and watching from the car as Rory and Lorelai hugged and danced around the front yard. It was one of his favorite memories of the two women. And watching them now makes him realize just how much he has missed being a part of Rory's life.

Emily and Richard hug her, and as Richard is walking away Tristin sees a mischievous glint in Emily's eye. She has something up her sleeve, and Tristin is almost afraid to guess what she has planned. As she is grabbing both him and Rory by the elbow, though, he gets the idea. A song is playing. And Emily not-so-subtly insists that they share a dance "for old time's sake." He is forced to rest his left hand at her waist, and takes her right hand in his. He glides her across the floor mockingly, and hears her let out a small laugh. And for once, he is satisfied with himself. He has finally made her smile. For the first time in forever, he feels like he has accomplished something.

Logan's glare eggs him on. He pulls Rory closer to him, and she rests her head on his chest. He kisses her hair, and she looks up at him. She shakes her head and looks to Logan, and he sighs. He knows he should have expected this. He knew she would go back to him. She always does. Always.

She releases herself from his grip and stands in front of him as if contemplating something. She nods, and his confusion kicks into overdrive. He studies her, wanting to know what she is thinking. Other than she has to go home and fuck Logan tonight. She kisses his cheek, and her lips linger near his ear. And he suppresses the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't lock the front door tonight."

It is autumn. And he realizes that the words of the song – their song – have never rung more true than now.

_Everything we got is blowing away  
__We gotta rock and rock 'til our dying day_

--

She is not sure what has overcome her. What has led her to lying to Logan, telling him she is staying the night with Paris and Doyle. The old her, the one who left with Logan nearly six months ago, would not have run back to Tristin. This new her, this woman who is now twenty-five, has taken over her body. The new her is giving Tristin the benefit of the doubt. And she's not so sure that it's a bad idea.

He _has_ changed. He calls her everyday. And though she does not answer, she enjoys the messages he leaves her. And he ends each one with an 'I love you.' No matter how much Logan says it, it always means more coming from _him_. At first, she reasoned that it was because he was her husband. But now… now she realizes it is because she loves him, too. And not Logan. And tonight… tonight she will figure out if it is really Tristin she needs in her life.

She nears the front door of his house – _their_ house. She opens the front door and smiles. Part of her had expected him to lock every damn door and window. But deep down, she knew he would keep them unlocked. Because she knows that he needs her just as much as she needs him. She climbs the stairs to their bedroom, and her heart is pounding in her ears. She smiles even more at the thought of actually being _home_ and going to _their_ bedroom. Honestly, she does not know what she is doing here tonight. All she really wants right now is to see him.

She opens the door to their bedroom and sees him sitting on the bed flipping through the channels. He looks over to her and smiles. She has never been more nervous than this moment. When he pats the bed beside him, though, she feels more at ease. She has wondered for six months what it would be like to be with him again. And as she crosses over to him, unfolding her arms from her chest, her heart pounds even more.

He turns off the TV and focuses on her. She feels her cheeks heat up under his gaze. She hopes he is not too upset with her for the events of her party. She meets his eyes and sees he is no longer smiling. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself what he will – or, perhaps, will _not_ – say.

"Where are your rings?" The question should have unnerved her. But this was one she had been expecting. She searches for the words to tell him, but cannot find the right ones. She shows him her hand now, which bears both her engagement ring and her wedding ring, and she sees his frown turn into a small smile. He takes her hand in his and shows her his hand, which is now bearing his wedding ring. She had noticed it earlier when they were dancing, dangling from his neck on a chain she had bought for him for his twenty-first birthday.

"Logan doesn't like them." It is the best response she can come up with. It is the truth. Logan has pitched more than one bitch at her for wearing them. He has told her on numerous occasions that she is either all in or all out. And she has made the decision that tonight will determine which of those she is. She has a feeling that it will be the former. And that thought warms her heart.

She bites her lip, contemplating her next move. She knows it has to be on her part. She was the one to leave. She was the one to send him the divorce papers. She has been the one to push him away. And he has been the one to try and hold on. He has called and responded to each and every one of her e-mails. This, though… this is _her_ move to make. Her chance to show him that she wants him back in her life.

She cups his face in her hands and kisses him softly. She figures that testing the waters is the best route to go. She thinks that maybe if she does this, then his next move will determine what, precisely, she is doing here. She finds her answer as his fingers run through her hair and grip the back of her neck. When he covers her lips with his own, and his tongue begs for entrance to her mouth. And she realizes as she kisses him that _this_ is what has been missing from her life for the last six months.

He pulls back slowly, and his eyes are dark with lust. She has missed those eyes. His bedroom eyes. And all she can think about is getting him out of his clothes. And getting out of her clothes. As if reading her mind, he pulls his shirt over his head. She touches his chest gently, feeling him tense under her fingers. She feels like a virgin again… it has been so long since she has felt this way.

He kisses her again, and gently pushes the straps of her dress down. She remembers him telling her long, long ago that he has always enjoyed the idea of dresses, as they allow easier access. The thought is erased when she feels him leaving open-mouthed kisses down her neck and to the valley between her breasts. She gasps at the sensation.

"You're far over-dressed, Mrs. DuGrey." His voice is husky, full of lust and want. And, she knows, that behind those two emotions, love resides. She can feel it. Much like she can feel his throbbing member on her thigh. She briefly wonders how she ended up on top of him, but when he kisses her again she pushes the thought away. Technicalities are not important right now, she decides, as she pushes down his sweats, revealing the boxers she bought him two years ago for Christmas.

She catches his confused eye as she lets her hand dip below his boxers. He throbs in her hand, and she hears him moan as she runs her hand up and down his hardened length. He kisses her fiercely, and she loses herself in the kiss. Before she knows what is happening, her dress is off. And he has flipped them. She is, for the first time in half a year, completely naked in front of her estranged husband. And she sees the shock in his eyes when he realizes she was not wearing panties.

She gives him a wicked grin, and he returns it as his hand travels between her legs. He inserts a finger into her and she moans, arching into it. He kisses her again and inserts another finger. She cannot stand the torture. She brings his ear down to her lips, nibbling softly on it, before saying, "Now." He understands, and as soon as the word has left her lips, he thrusts into her.

There is nothing slow about this. It is a rough, needing pace. And she is not complaining. She meets him thrust for thrust, and does not blush when he tells her precisely what he wants to do to her. When profane words are uttered from his lips, she says even more profane things.

They cry out each other's names within seconds of each other. And she melts into his embrace as he holds her close, and whispers words of love to her. She has missed this pillow talk they have shared.

But for the first time in what seems like forever, she does not fall asleep. She stays awake, and the realization of what she has done comes crashing down too soon. She has slept with her estranged husband. She has lied to her boyfriend. She has done all this without thinking. And she is not surprised. It is how she operates.

She waits for him to fall asleep, and releases herself from his grasp. She realizes that, yet again, she is running from him. Because she has betrayed Logan… the one for whom she betrayed Tristin.

She sighs in frustration as she pulls her dress on. She prays that he will, one day, forgive her for what she has done. She kisses his forehead, and decides against writing a note. A note will not fix what she has ruined – a good, steady friendship. A road back to togetherness and wedded bliss. Sex will not solve their problems. Sex will not solve anything, she realizes… three hours too late.

She glances back at him once more and feels her heart shattering. She highly doubts he will forgive her for this. But she still holds out hope. She slides her rings on her finger and quietly opens and closes the door. She walks out into the cool October night and cries at the song that is playing when she starts the car.

It is autumn, and she tells herself that the words of the song mean nothing to her.

_Baby, it's all we got but it's all I need  
__You're all I need_


	4. Winter

**See first chapter for all necessary information. Again, "All I Need" belongs to Mat Kearney. This is the last chapter, and after much debate, I've decided that there ****will not be**** an epilogue. Thank you so much for all of the reviews, they have inspired me and have kept me going.**

--

**Winter**: _The Realization That You've Never Let Go_

She wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. And her body is hurting all over. Confusion sets in and quickly dissipates at the same time when she looks out the window. And she remembers it all: the screeching tires, the unbearable sound of metal crashing into metal. She wonders how long she has been here in this bed. How long it has been since the accident.

"Rory?" Her mother's worried voice breaks her from her thoughts. She looks up and sees Lorelai standing at the door. She wonders why her mother is not sitting beside her. She looks at the chair beside her and sees that it has recently been vacated. Blankets are on the floor, and a pillow lays in the seat. Her mother notices her look of confusion and only explains in one word. "He's outside. He told me you were awake."

She understands precisely who the 'he' is. Her estranged husband of almost two years. And then confusion sets in again. Why is he here? Does he still hate her? Is he here to end things once and for all? "Mom…" Lorelai silences her. She takes a seat on the bed beside her and holds her hand. Rory can only nod, understanding that worrying will not make her – or _their_, for that matter – situation any better. She takes a deep breath and looks up at Lorelai. Her mother looks like she has aged ten years over night. "Can I… can I see him?" Lorelai nods, and exits the room.

She looks outside and sees that it is snowing. She remembers her mother telling her before that magical things happen when it snows. She quickly decides that this is complete and utter bullshit. The thought is intensified when he walks into her room, looking much the same as her mother. Only it is not his facial features that make him look old and weary. It is his eyes – once a vibrant shade of blue like the sky, they are now dark, tired. And she thinks she even sees defeat in them.

February used to be her favorite month. Growing up she'd anticipated its arrival, counting down the days until Groundhog Day, Valentine's Day and, if applicable, even the leap years. Now, though, she hates the month with a complete and utter passion. She hates its big snow storms and its pretty ice crystals that it leaves on her car in the morning. She hates it for letting the groundhog see its shadow. And she hates it for making people fall in love and be completely and utterly oblivious to the other problems in the world.

"Hi." His voice is cold. The warm inviting tone, she decides, left around the time she did the night of her birthday. She thinks it's off somewhere in Hawaii, warming up because of the cold vibes they have been sending each other for the last year. She does not allow herself to smile at this thought, knowing smiling will only make things worse than they already are. She nods in greeting, slipping her left hand – amazingly still adorning her rings – into his. His ring is still there, too. Somehow, she sees this as a small glimmer of hope. "I've been worried about you."

She is not sure how to respond. Does she thank him for the concern? She has a feeling that if she does that, he will tell her he was obligated. She isn't quite sure what to say. She chooses to fill him in on her life. Even though she has a feeling he already knows. "Logan and I broke up."

"Congratulations." Not the response she was expecting. Granted, nothing about him has been expected. Everything with him has been one big surprise after another. She thinks back over everything they have been through, and realizes that it is because of this small fact, she fell in love with him. And she finally sees that it is not defeat, but exhaustion, in his eyes. He is tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of being put through everything she has put him through.

She makes a mental pro/con list, though, because she does not want to have to fight. She comes to find, though, that her lists will not help her right now. This decision must be made out of passion, out of sincere want. Not out of an obligation. She has a feeling that he knows this, too. He has been the one contacting her. And she has been the one not answering. She sighs, and finally faces the simple truth: she has pushed him away, only to take him back and push him away _again_. She must make a decision quickly, because he will not be around forever. She makes a decision right then and there. She will fight for him.

"I'm sorry." She prays her voice is not as weak as she thinks it is. He nods, but does not say anything. She stops him, though. Lets a tear fall down her cheek before continuing. "For pushing you away. And for leaving. The first time and that night." She is not sure how to phrase what occurred between them, and goes for calling it 'that night' in the hopes that he knows precisely of which night she is speaking. He tries to say something, but she will not let him. This is her battle to fight.

"I was coming to see you." It was true. She was coming to see him to get the divorce papers. To make everything final. To be done with him for good. He studies her intently, and she forces herself to keep speaking. She decides to finally tell him the truth. To stop hiding behind the walls she has put up. "I wanted to make things right." And now, she will make things right.

Because she is tired, too. She is tired of running from him. Tired of doubting him. Tired of not believing him when he tells her he loves her. She is tired of missing him and missing the way they would talk and kiss. She is tired of not being able to make love to her husband every night, the way a wife should. He squeezes her hand gently, and offers her a smile. He goes to speak again, but she silences him.

"I don't deserve it," she says. She takes a deep breath, in case he is the one to turn her down this time. "But do you think there's still room for me in your life?" Now, she does not care how her voice sounds. She is sure that it sounds needy, clingy, too pathetic. But she doesn't care. Because she wants him back in her life. She wants him to be back in this hospital again with her someday, holding her hand like he is now and encouraging her for one more push as she delivers his children. She wants him to hold her every night. She wants him to be her husband again. She wants her life back.

She looks up at him, studying him and not knowing what he will do. She prays he will tell her yes, but she is still bracing herself for if he says no. Because she deserves a 'no.' She does not deserve him or any type of happiness with him. She is partially relieved, but still preparing herself for a rejection when he smiles at her. She smiles back, trying to mask the fear that has set in. It is only when he presses his lips to hers, softly, gently, that she feels relief completely wash over her. His thumb grazes over her knuckles, and he kisses her forehead softly. His voice is soft, but finally warm as he answers her. "_You _aremy life."

She smiles at him, tears spilling gently down her cheeks. He wipes them away gently, and kisses away a few. He kisses her softly, and she makes room for him in her bed. She melts into his arms. Finally, after nearly a year, she has made a wise decision.

It is winter, and she realizes that magical things really do happen when it snows.

--

He has been in sheer and utter panic for the last few hours. He has been sitting beside her bed telling her he loves her and praying for her to wake up since that morning. It is two in the afternoon when he sees her open her eyes. And he goes to get Lorelai. He stands out in the hall, waiting for mother and daughter to talk. Waiting for Lorelai to come out and tell him he can go back in there. Now that she is awake, though, he is unsure.

He knows if he goes back in there, she will only send him away again. The thought of being rejected _again_ by her is overwhelming. He cannot stand it. He doesn't want to lose her again. He refuses to be hurt again. He starts to walk away when Lorelai tells him he can go see her. After a small debate, he decides to go in there and see her. He puts on his cold exterior, for fear that this will be the final time he sees her. He decides that if she rejects him again, he will send her the papers. They have been signed for months, but he has still held out hope for them.

She thanks him, and he awaits her to tell him to leave. He is not a stranger to the ways of Rory Gilmore. She has always been polite, but to the point. He will not let her politeness fool him into thinking that they still have a chance.

He studies her, though, and sees she is debating telling him something. He still keeps his guard off. Telling her congratulations when she tells him she has broken up with the blonde prick. He knew that, though. He knew she broke up with him the night they slept together. Lorelai had informed him of this. He wonders what the hell she has been doing since then, but knows that she has been busy with her job. A CNN overseas correspondent. He fights the urge to tell her he is proud of her. Because he knows that doing so will bring his guard and his resistance to her crumbling down.

He still studies her. Waiting for her to tell him to leave. He will not leave until she tells him to. She is contemplating something. He can tell because she is biting her lip. She opens her mouth, and he prepares to walk. But his preparation is cut short. "I'm sorry." He sees a tear slip down her cheek. He suppresses the urge to brush it away. She looks up at him, and he keeps his eyes on her. Waiting, waiting. "For pushing you away. And for leaving. The first time and that night." He wants to tell her it's okay, but she silences his him again. "I was coming to see you."

He knows why. She wanted the divorce papers. She, like him, wanted the sadness to be over. Wanted all the sadness and madness to end. "I wanted to make things right." He decides right then and there that he will give her _this_ opportunity to make things right. He is unsure if this means he will stay or go. He wants her to decide that. He wants her to decide to fight for him. Because he cannot fight for her anymore. He is too tired and weary to keep battling for her heart. He squeezes her hand, he needs her to continue. Because this is her decision to make.

"I don't deserve it, but do you think there's still room for me in your life?" The question catches him off-guard. Did she really think he didn't want her? That he was going to let her go? That he would push her away? He hopes that his smile answers her. She smiles back, but he sees the doubt and confusion in her eyes. He sees the fear that is being poorly masked behind the barriers she is tired of putting up. He decides the only way to answer her is, quite literally, with his lips. Brushing them over hers, he sees the relief in her eyes. He grazes his thumb over her knuckles and for the first time feels that relief, too. He relishes in the fact that he can really touch her now, and takes advantage of it by brushing his lips over her forehead. She is still his. He can still do this with her. He decides then and there that it is the greatest feeling in the world.

"_You_ are my life," he tells her. And she is. She really, truly is. His life is back. His reason for waking up everyday is back. His happiness, his bliss, his entire _world_ is back. And he cannot even think of a greater feeling than climbing into the bed with her. And feeling her melt into his arms. She is his again. She is finally his again.

It is winter, and he will never let her go again.

_And if all we've got is what no one can break  
I know I love you  
If that's all we can take  
The tears are coming down  
They're mixing with the rain  
I know I love you, if that's all we can take  
_…  
_A pool is running for miles on the concrete ground  
We're eight feet deep and the rain is still coming down  
The TV's playing it all out of town  
We're grabbing at the fray for something that won't drown_


End file.
